


Time of Death: February 21st, 2013, 4:49 am

by maggiemarge (orphan_account)



Series: Time of Death [1]
Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blood Drinking, Daddy Kink, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Jerry is a creep, Kidnapping, M/M, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Someones gonna DIE, Sorry Not Sorry, Stockholm Syndrome, Vampires, i wrote these chapters at 2 in the morning that's why they're of poor quality, i'm obsessed with run-on sentences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-23 03:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/maggiemarge
Summary: Wrong place, wrong time.





	1. 9:01 pm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eggshellseas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshellseas/gifts).



> LMAO sorry

Heavy rain drums down on the windshield of my piece of crap car as I stub out my cigarette in the ashtray. Parked outside "Joel's Bar & Grill"- a boring name fit for a boring place of work- I mentally gather myself for another dull night tending to tired tourists and sad drunks in Boulder City, Nevada.

Couldn't they at least drive into the city? Why anyone would willingly spend a night out here is beyond me. The neon sign glares down at me as if to say _'Okay bitch, but do you have somewhere better to be?'_ No, I don't. Which makes me as lame as them. The rusty backdoor squeaks loudly as I haul it open.

"Hey Talia!" Rebecca- otherwise known as Bex- the other bartender, waves to me. She always manages to exude an air of happy, welcoming, everything a good employee is supposed to be. But maybe I'm only seeing that from her because that's all I'm looking for. I read somewhere that we idealize the people we love... or the people we really, really like.

I need to get a hold of myself. All I ever do is gape at her like an idiot. Respond like a normal person, Talia!

"H-hey Bex. I'm... just gonna put my coat in the back and then I'll be out in a sec." She just nods and smiles at me.

The bar's "backroom" is really a glorified storage closet. Leaning against a dingy shelf, I take a deep breath. The idea of just getting into my car and driving away from this shithole until I ran out of gas is getting more and more persistent with each passing day. Maybe if I just didn't eat a lot for a while, I could save enough money to leave this place.

The sharp sound of drunk laughter cuts into my thoughts. Sighing, I smooth down my hair and walk back into the bar.

Time to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can figure out where I stole the nickname "Bex" from, I'll blow you a kiss, no matter where in the world you are ;)


	2. 10:34 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are back in town. Also, Talia is a big loser lol.

Laughing at drunk men's bad jokes gets really old, really fast. Bex makes it look natural, but when I try to do it, I sound like a dying hyena. Nonetheless, I want my damn tips, so I try. The customers are particularly raucous tonight and one guy won't stop telling me pirate puns while I refill his glass. Bex sidles up to me and subtly steers me away from the man.

I look at her with gratitude, "Thanks. I was really not interested in hearing anything else about his 'booty'."

She snorts. "Well at least he wasn't talking about yours." Her hand smooths down my hair and I feel my heart skip.

"Oh... damn that... frizz," I splutter out, _super_ gracefully. Thankfully, Bex just laughs.

"Get a room, girlies!" One of our regulars shouts. A couple others laugh and my face heats up. Just as I'm about to come up with another delightfully well-constructed response, the front door opens and a stranger- no- two strangers walk in. A man with dark hair and a dark jacket and what can only be described as a boy with him. The man looks around the room for a moment, and then steers himself and the kid to two seats at the corner of the bar. They don't look like tourists, at least the man doesn't, but the kid looks remarkably uncomfortable. 

Bex motions for me to take care of them. Walking over, I notice that the kid's shaking. He keeps looking up at the speakers and then back down at his hands, folded in his lap.

"Hey, do you need me to turn down the music?" I ask, once I'm in front of him. His gaze shoots up to meet mine and then, just as quickly, lowers to his lap once again.

"Um... no, thank you," he says quietly. The older man chuckles. I feel dumb. Of course he doesn't want the music turned down, he wouldn't have gone out if he wanted a quiet night. He's probably shaking because it's cold and raining outside. The older man's hand is now under the bar, resting somewhere around the kid's knee. I can't figure out if they're together or if they're related. Damn me for being nosy, I guess.

"Okay, so what can I get you guys?" I'm hoping they aren't weirded out by the staring I've been doing.

"Do you have Guinness on tap?" The older man asks, and damn, he has a nice voice.

"Yeah, I'll get you a glass," I say, and wait for the kid to order. He keeps staring at his lap, maybe he has social anxiety (I can relate). The silence is quickly getting awkward, so I turn back towards the older man, "What would your... uh... son like?"

Why did I call the kid his son? If he's not his son, then he'll be super weirded out. God what is wrong with me? Luckily, the older man doesn't seem to react at all to me; he just turns towards the kid and asks, "Do you want anything to eat, son?" The kid jolts, like he's been electrocuted. He looks up at the older man and then at me, back to the older man, back down to his lap.

"A cheeseburger, with no pickles, please," he practically whispers.

"Um, alright. Fries or fruit on the side?"

The kid's about to answer when the older man cuts in, "Fruit, please."

"Alright, I'll get that started up for you."

Okay, so they're not together. The older man's his dad. I laugh at myself for acting like an idiot as I go give the order to the kitchen. I'm filling a glass with the older man's beer when I see him whisper something to the kid and the kid's face goes white. He starts shaking his head and looks like he's about to say something, but when I walk back over with the drink, he just lowers his head again. The older man's hand has migrated from the kid's knee to the back of his neck.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he says, leaning back a bit, presumably to show off his chest muscles. I wonder whether that works on straight girls. I suppose it'll have to "work" on me so that I can hopefully get a good tip. So, I smile at him before getting back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talia thinks Jerry's a fuckboy.


	3. 10:55 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Jerry is a creep!

I'm taking care of an older couple's check when the kitchen sends out the kid's burger. I place it in front of the kid and he immediately begins tearing into it like a starving child. He does look kind of skinny. Maybe he's not eating enough? The older man grabs a weak-looking piece of honeydew from the plate.

"Do you guys need anything else?" I ask.

The older man has a wide grin on his face, "A coke, for my son, please." The kid looks like he's choking on the burger, and the older man begins rubbing his back. These two are really odd.

"Alrighty, I'll bring that right over."

"Thank you, Daddy," I hear the kid whisper to the older man. Wait. Do kids his age call their fathers 'Daddy'? I look back and the kid is bright red. The older man's grin has an edge to it now. His hand is still on the kid's back, but it's moved lower. I bring the soda back to them and catch the kid's eye. He looks embarrassed. No, not just embarrassed, he looks terrified. There's something not right here.

I move away from them and signal Bex to come over. Keeping my eyes on the kid, I ask, "Look at those two. What's your first instinct when you see them? Like, what do you think they are to each other?"

"Well, they kinda look like they're boning. Why, are you jealous?" she teases.

"No, Bex, the older guy said that the kid is his son. What dad looks at their son that way?"

"Oh, ew! Wait, maybe they're roleplaying. Maybe they're just into that sort of thing."

"The kid looks scared. He's twitchy and the older dude has kept a hand on him the entire night. Literally, the _entire_ night, Bex! And does he look legal to you? I swear that kid is seventeen at the oldest!"

"Okay, calm down. This isn't good for your anxiety. You just need to breathe. I'll keep an eye on them, you go have a smoke and relax." A cigarette sounds really nice right now.

"Fine, but if you notice something, then tell me," I say. She nods and I make my way out back. At least the rain has let up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: JERRY IS A CREEP


	4. 11:08 pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank god Talia isn't a therapist because she's awful at helping people.

I definitely took my sweet time with that. I go back inside and down the back hallway towards the bathroom. Occupied. What kind of shitty bar only has one toilet? That will forever piss me off. Whoever Joel was, he sure knew how to be cheap as hell.

The door suddenly swings open and I jump back as a man- no, _the older man_ \- walks out. He stops in front of me and looks down with that same grin on his face. "Predatory" is the only word to describe what that smile looks like. I back up further until I hit the wall and the older man, seemingly satisfied that he scared me, just walks away.

I catch my breath and walk into the bathroom, promptly smacking into someone.

"Oh fuck!" I shout. The person flinches. Crap, it's the kid. "Shit, sorry dude! I didn't mean to walk in on y- wait. What were you doing in here?"

The kid looks panicked and quickly locks the door. That's when I notice the teary eyes and the bruise around his throat. He sees me looking and turns away.

"Do you need help?" What a stupid question. Obviously, he needs help. I really am the worst at this sort of thing.

"No!" he says with a hoarse voice, more forcefully than I would've expected from him, "No one can help me. And you need to leave! He's already noticed you watching us! You need to get into your car and go as far away as possible! Just drive and-"

"Woah! Hold up. I'm not going anywhere. And you _can_ get help. No one is untouchable," I say, reciting the most cliche of all the cliches. Great. That'll convince him.

"Listen to me. I can't explain it to you, but you just need to trust me. Please, just get away from here!"

"Look, I'll leave if you come with me. You're clearly scared of this guy, we can drive to California or someth- oh my God, is that blood?!" There's a stain on the collar of the kid's shirt. It's quickly seeping through and the kid curses, grabbing a paper towel to soak it up. He's just tossing the towel in the bin when a knock on the door sounds off. The kid jumps.

"Occupied!" I shout.

"Charley. Open the door, now." It's the older man's voice. Crap, he sounds pissed. The kid, Charley, moves to unlock the door.

"No!" I whisper urgently, "Don't let him in if you're scared!" Charley lets out a kind of strangled laugh at that, for whatever reason.

"Charley, do _not_ make me ask again." The kid pushes past me to unlock the damn door and suddenly there's three people standing in this crappy bathroom. The older man's eyes look livid, but the rest of his face is relaxed. "So you made a new friend, huh kiddo?" Charley flinches. "Did you think I wouldn't hear what you two were talking about?"

"I didn't say anything..." Charley whispers. He's hunched over, practically curled in on himself.

"I don't care. She's coming with us."

Charley's head jerks up.

"Um, no. No she is not," I interject. The older man laughs, but otherwise ignores me.

"Charley, it's really up to you," he says, in a mocking tone. Charley looks confused. "It's either her or everyone else in this crap joint. Make your choice." At this point, I'm really freaking out. This guy is talking like a freaking serial killer. I try to move towards the door and the older man's arm comes up to rest on the doorjamb. His entire body is taking up the frame and _holy God, he has muscles_. So that's going to be a no on escaping. Charley's crying now and the older man's other hand is stroking his hair.

"Jerry, please..." Charley whimpers. The hand in his hair tightens.

"Is that what you're supposed to call me tonight?"

The kid hesitates, then takes a deep breath, "... Daddy, please don't do this. You can take what you need from me instead." His eyes are pleading. The hand gets even tighter and the kid cries out.

"I can take anything from you, whenever I want. I don't need your permission," Jerry bites out. He breathes in, calming himself down, loosens his grip on Charley's hair. And then:

"What I need tonight is something to kill."

Oh shit.

 _Oh shit, oh FUCK_.

This crazy motherfucker with the muscles and the stupid name is gonna kill me in shithole Nevada. Fuck my life. Wait, but if he's going to try to kill me anyways, then I might as well put my all into trying to get away. I rear my arm back and before he can fully register that I'm moving, I punch him in the nose.

And subsequently, break my hand. Jerry's hand moves from Charley's hair to my upper arm, and is now the only thing holding me upright, as I'm doubled over in pain.

"What the fuck is your face made out of? Titanium?!?" I scream at him. Jerry's other hand cups my face and for a fleeting moment, I swear to God, his eyes turn black.

And then, my head is snapped back and the blackness swallows me whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, spaghetti-o!


	5. 3:21 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talia: Wait, Jerry's a vampire?? O_O  
> The entire world: ... Bitch, I swear to God

Stifled moaning is the first thing I hear. My head is pounding and I can barely feel my toes. There's a cushion- no, a mattress- under me, and when I open my eyes, I see dimly lit cement. I'm in some sort of a basement. Cement, no windows, staircase up to a door. Yup, this is a basement. A sharp pain in my neck fires off as I attempt to lift my head up to find the source of the noises. Is that water on my face? I reach my hand up and all I feel is a sticky substance. 

Oh shit. That's blood. I'm going to die in this room.

Fuck, I never told Bex that I love her. People always say that when you realize you're about to die, you figure out who or what is truly important to you, and I know now, I _really_ love her.

God. I'm crying about a girl, when I should be trying to find a way to get back to her. My mother would be appalled. A loud, high-pitched whine cuts off my impending panic attack. I push myself into a sitting position and immediately fall forward onto my hands and knees. My head spins and I try not to vomit.

Once my head clears, I slowly lift my head and I see two bodies in the opposite corner, one on top of the other. Crap. That must be Charley and the older man. Jerry, I think is what Charley called him. Well, that's not all he called him, but I don't want to think about that. The man on top, probably Jerry, suddenly sits back on his legs, kneeling over Charley's poorly lit form. I fall backwards, hitting my ass on the thin mattress, and they both turn towards me.

Damn, I'm screwed. Jerry whispers something to the kid, then stands up and begins walking towards me, and oh my God, his whole dick is just hanging out of his pants! That's when I really see Charley, entirely naked, with a mixture of dried and fresh blood staining his right side, and silently sobbing into his arms on the floor.

"What are you doing to that kid?! He'll die if he loses too much blood!" Jerry just smiles at that and continues his advance, while tucking himself back into his pants. "Stop! Don't come any closer. J-just leave us alone!"

"Oh, there's an 'us' now, is there?" Jerry kneels down next to the mattress as I press myself into the corner, like a trapped damn rat. He reaches his hand up, and for a moment I think he's going to stroke my face, but then he grabs my neck and pulls me, gasping for air, towards him. He falls back on his heels and his other hand locks around my lower back. I'm practically sitting in his lap.

I look over Jerry's shoulder and see Charley, curled into the fetus position, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Dissociating. That's starting to sound like a good idea, because I'd rather be anywhere but here. My vision is getting staticky, when I suddenly feel a piercing pain drag me back down into my body.

My neck. It's my neck. What the fuck is he doing to my neck? I feel his breath exhaling from his nose, his mouth wetting the side of my throat, his... holy fuck, his teeth? No, oh Christ, oh God, no those are fangs. Oh Jesus, those are fangs.

No, no, no, no, no, not real. This isn't real. Charley sobs loudly and Jerry detaches himself from my fucking artery to turn and glare at him. "Charley, I've told you enough times not to ruin these moments for me with your pathetic crying." The kid's eyes widen in fear. Jerry's soften. "I'll be done in a minute _son_ , then you can have all the attention from Daddy that you want."

This is so sick. What the fuck is going on? Before I can get too introspective, Jerry is biting me (ew) again. I can't struggle, I can't even move. This is honestly way more painful than it looks in _Twilight_ , or whatever. When Jerry's finished, he dumps my body back onto the mattress and stands up. I can't move, I can barely see. My heart is beating very, very slowly.

"That's just what I like. A good fuck-" he gestures to Charley, "- and a warm meal," he smirks at me. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. "I'm going to go upstairs for a bit. You two kids can entertain yourselves down here on your own, right?" Jerry asks, with mock concern in his voice. I can't answer or even nod my head, but it doesn't matter. This is about Charley. He's really only talking to the kid.

"Y-yes," Charley gasps out.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy," the kid sounds like he's about to start crying again.

"That's my good boy."

In my peripheral vision, I see the door at the top of the staircase open and light floods in, then it's closed again. My eyes are sliding shut of their own volition. Before everything goes dark again, I hear a small voice:

"I'm so sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw he give you the good succ


	6. 4:04 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good luck watching Cloud Atlas, or going to the zoo, or playing Borderlands without associating it with this big mess.

Cold fingers are pressing on my throat. I open my eyes and am greeted by the sight of an extremely pale Charley, in nothing but a pair of boxers, checking my pulse. I've really blacked out enough for one night; this is getting ridiculous. Actually, it's been ridiculous. I'm trapped in some guy's basement with a freaking preteen or whatever. And this guy, Jerry, is... wow, I don't want to believe it. But, he's a-

"Vampire," Charley says, breaking the silence, "Jerry's a real life vampire." He turns and sits on the edge of the mattress. His limbs are frighteningly skinny.

"Um.. you can't read minds, can you? Because that would be a little too _Twilight_ for me to handle on top of everything else."

"No, I-I just figured you would want to know for sure before-" Charley abruptly stops talking.

"Before I die?" Silence from the kid. "Charley, I'm gonna die here, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry."

Panic is bubbling up in my chest and I have to fight to breathe. I didn't say goodbye to Bex. The last time she saw me was when I was going out to have a smoke. She won't know what happened to me. I'll never get to see the Pacific Ocean. I didn't leave flowers on my mother's grave this year. I told myself that I was too busy, and now there'll be no one left to visit her tombstone. She'll be alone forever. And so will I. I don't even notice that I'm shaking until Charley puts his hand on my arm.

"Um... can you breathe? Are you having an anxiety attack? I've never seen someone else have one before," he's rambling, probably starting to panic too. That's not good. We can't both hyperventilate and pass out. Think of birds, think of a stream, think of sunlight highlighting summer trees. Isn't that what Mom used to tell me to help me calm down?

"Oh, you stopped shaking. Are- are you feeling better now?"

"Y-yeah, sure kid. Thanks." Charley pulls his hand back like he couldn't wait to get it away from me. "My name is Talia." He startles, looks at me, then immediately breaks eye contact.

"It's- well, not nice, given the situation- it's uh, decent to meet you, Talia."

"Likewise, Charley." Silence settles over us and I take the time to look at him closer. He's less jumpy, more talkative when Jerry's not around, but he still looks and acts like a scared rabbit that's about to be eaten. There are bruises up and down his arms and a deep hand-shaped one on his neck. Bite marks on the throat, inside of the elbows, thighs, and there's even one on his stomach. Those are just vile. And there's _so many of them_. His skin is pale, like he hasn't been outside during daylight hours for a while.

And then there's his eyes. His eyes are so sad. He looks terrified at everything.

"Charley, how long have you been here?"

He tilts his head for a moment, "Maybe a year? I'm not sure." Jesus Christ, a whole year. How does one kid survive that?

"No offense, but I kinda have to know, why are you still human and, you know, not dead?"

"Jerry said that he likes me like this. _Fragile_."

"That's fucked up."

Charley huffs out a laugh at that, "Yeah, it is."

I'm curious and I'm probably going to die, so I keep questioning the kid. "How did this start? I mean, like, why are you here?" Charley grimaces and I feel a little bad for bringing it up.

"He was my neighbor at the end of my senior year. We- I found out that he was a vampire. I tried to kill him; I got pretty close actually, which I guess he liked. He took me and kept me down here. He, um... hurt me when I didn't do what he wanted. Then, when that didn't work, he started hurting other people," Charley shifts back and sits against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He looks devastated, hopeless. His eyes fill with tears, "Everyone is gone. Jerry killed them all. I had a mom, a girlfriend, friends. He made me watch while he murdered them and drank their blood.

"No one even knows I'm missing, or cares. Because everyone that cared is dead," A sob escapes, and Charley puts his fist to his mouth to stop the crying, taking deep breaths through his nose. I watch him, silently. He takes his hand away and looks at the floor, "A-all I have is Jerry. I know that's really fucked up, and I know that he's hurting me, but sometimes..." he pauses, takes another deep breath, "Sometimes he'll come down here and just sit with me, and I catch myself thinking, 'This isn't so bad.'"

Jesus Christ, this situation is messy. "Charley, what you're describing is _Stockholm Syndrome_. You can't accept this. He's abusing you!"

"What am I supposed to do?! Run? Fight him? He's faster and stronger and smarter than me! Not to mention, he's like 400 years old! How do I beat him? Really, Talia, if you have any ideas, feel free to share."

"Kid-"

"No, this is my life now. Jerry... he owns me. I can't do anything about it," Charley sounds more exhausted than bitter. His eyes are almost empty, with dark circles under them. Wait, he was naked earlier. Oh God, Jerry keeps him, naked, in a basement. The bruises, the bite marks on the thighs. The excessive flinching. How many times has he raped this kid? I have to at least try to get Charley out of here.

"Look... maybe between the two of us, we can fight him off long enough to run and hide or get help."

Charley looks at me then, with hollow amusement. "You really think you're the first stranger he's brought down here? I've watched hundreds of you die."

Shit, I'm screwed.

I swallow my tears, sit back, and say, "Well, if I'm going to die, will you at least talk to me before if go? I don't want my last memory to be silence."

Charley looks at me curiously, "Talk about what?"

"Tell me about yourself, kid."

"There's nothing to tell. My whole life is this. I didn't even really do anything before this."

"Please, Charley, tell me something."

Charley sighs, "Okay, fine. Um... Jerry took me to the zoo about a month ago. I got to see a zebra."

"Wait, what? How did he go outside during the day?"

"We went after dark. Jerry killed two security officers and dressed us up like them so that we could see the animals."

"... Oh."

"Yeah, uh, there was also this time that he took me to see a movie, Cloud Atlas, at a theater. Actually that wasn't that great."

"Oh yeah, I heard that movie was disappointing."

"I wouldn't know. I spent the whole time on my knees," Charley's trying to laugh that off, but he's tearing up. He keeps talking. The momentum of venting to an outsider is in full effect. "Sometimes, he takes me to restaurants as a reward for good behavior. That's not what that was tonight. We were on our way back from hunting in Arizona. Apparently, people taste awful there, so I don't think we'll be going there again.

"One time, a-after he killed my friend Peter, I wouldn't talk to him or even look at him. He got kinda mad, but then he came home with a Playstation. Now, sometimes he lets me come upstairs to play _Borderlands_." This kid's brain is totally warped, and I don't miss the way he refers to this place as 'home'. He continues talking, "The last time I tried to escape, I broke my arm while I was jumping out of the car. Jerry didn't even yell. He didn't hurt me or anything. He just held me and told me that he was going to fix it, and he did."

"What do you mean he fixed it?"

"Jerry's blood has 'healing capabilities', I think. If a human drinks it, they'll heal faster. How do you think your hand is okay, after you punched him in the face?"

"What the fuck?! He fed me his blood?" That's fucking disgusting. I feel like throwing up. I didn't even remember my hand until the kid brought it up. I look at it, bend my fingers a bit, and everything seems to be alright. Crap, that's weird. I almost don't notice Charley's rambling while I'm staring at my hand.

"-it's a good thing he did it while you were passed out because it kinda turns you into a zombie. Like, you'll do anything he tells you to for a short while," At this point, Charley almost looks like he's having a manic episode. "Sometimes, he would have sex with me after he'd give me blood. Don't tell him I said this, but it feels really good like that." I look at him closer. Glassy eyes, fast speech, impulsive behavior. Yup, he's having a manic episode.

"That's not sex, that's rape," I say, and before he can respond, "Charley, do you have medications for anything down here?"

"Oh, yeah, there's my daily vitamins and stuff." He walks over to a small bathroom with no door, and grabs a bag full of pills.

He walks back, sets the bag on the mattress, and says, "Here's my iron supplement, my multi-vitamin-," he's pointing to the different colored pills, "- my aspirin, my Vitamin-d supplement, my Vitamin-a supplement, my Vitamin-c suppl-"

" _That's not Vitamin-c_."

"What? Yes it is, Jerry got it for me so that I wouldn't get scurvy, or something."

"No, that's Levodopa. It's 1/2 of a Parkinson's treatment regimen. My grams used to take it."

"Why would Jerry give me a pill that treats Parkinson's?"

"Charley, it's because it can induce mania. And the more emotionally unstable you are, the easier you are to manipulate. I wouldn't be surprised if some of those other pills aren't what he said they were, too." Charley's eyes widen. They suddenly appear clearer, more lucid. He looks at me and then back at the pills. Realization crashes over him.

"O-oh God... I have to get out of here." He's breathing hard, retreating inwards. I put my hand on his knee and he jumps.

"Relax, I know, kid. We need to work together. You know this place better than me, but Jerry doesn't know me as well as you. So, we use those two things to our advantage." If we get this right, there's a chance that we can both get out.

"I know it's still nighttime because Jerry gets antsy in the mornings, but he's probably resting. Arizona really wiped him out," Charley says, and he already looks a little less dead inside.

"Okay, so if we get out of this room, we can sneak past him, right?"

"Uh, presumably? ...Hopefully." Not the vote of confidence I was going for, but I'll take it. Then Charley lets out a groan of frustration, "The basement door's locked. He got into the habit of leaving it unlocked sometimes because he knew I wouldn't run anymore, but every time we have a... _guest_ , he locks it again."

Great. That's phenomenal. I look around the room for something to use. Anything. Then I remember, "Charley! I have bobby pins! For my hair!"

"I know how to pick locks! Wait, we need a sort of tension wrench replacement," he says, dejected again.

"What's that?"

"A long, flat piece of metal."

"Will a metal nail file work?" I ask, pulling mine out of my inside jacket pocket.

"How do you have that?"

"I get kinda paranoid about not having things I might need; looks like my paranoia wasn't unfounded after all. Also, our idiot captor didn't search my pockets," I'm already getting excited, hopeful.

"Well, to be fair, he is vampire. I don't think he's too worried about potential pocketknives." We look at each other and both laugh. "This could work. We could really get out of here..."

Charley seems to be talking more to himself than me. I push myself up. Standing feels weird after losing a lot of blood. I look around the room, at the two dingy mattresses, a box of comics, a half-eaten bag of tortilla chips, a discarded pair of handcuffs. Bloodstains everywhere.

An IV stand. For draining blood. My blood. There's no way I'm dying in this room.

I turn to Charley, "Pick the lock now, kid. It's time to leave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you recognized the reference to this sick collab, then bonus points to you:
> 
> https://eggshellseas.tumblr.com/post/157405465827


	7. 4:30 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting closer to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:  
> I need to put a few words here. First, this chapter was significantly more difficult for me to than I thought it would be. The themes in it were very hard for me to work directly with, so if the writing comes off as staccato or inauthentic, I apologize. Second, there is a **trigger warning** for semi-explicit discussions of rape. Third, I do not, in any way, shape, or form, condone sexual assault. This is the way I chose to portray these characters, and it ended up making me a lot more uncomfortable than I initially expected. That's all.

The door is open. I can't believe Charley got the door open. We step out into a hallway, turned makeshift laundry room. There's a backdoor, adjacent to the basement door, welded shut. Charley motions for me to follow him while making a shushing motion. The hallway opens up to the kitchen, from which a large dining room is visible. The kid peers around the corner and I wait. The silence is crushing. I'm straining to hear anything, a footstep, a sniffle, something that tells us where our captor is.

But there's nothing.

Charley looks around once more before signaling that we're good to go. We creep into the kitchen and I look around.

"This is a really nice fridge, but why is there nothing else here?" I whisper.

Charley turns to me and then looks at the fridge, "He keeps blood in there and orders delivery for me."

"Oh." That's gross, but at least he plans ahead? Charley is carefully moving towards the opening out of the dining room. We're both waiting for something to happen.

"You know, my mom and I lived here. Not in this exact town. Jerry had to move after so many people disappeared, but our old house isn't too far away. Sometimes it really hurts being so close," Charley is saying. I think he's just talking to keep the fear at bay. We wait beside the opening, and Charley looks at me again, "The next room is the living room; the front door is right there. We'll go across the street, wake the neighbors up, and call the police. Jerry can't get in and he won't try if there are too many witnesses."

"Okay, got it."

He leads us through the archway into the dim living room. We round the corner, and a side table lamp turns on. Charley immediately begins shaking. I grab his hand.

Jerry is right in front of us, lounging in an armchair. His eyes flick down to Charley's hand in mine, and his nostrils flare for a moment. I'm about to ask why he was sitting in the dark, waiting like a cheesy B-movie villain, when Charley speaks up.

"How did you know?" His voice is a whisper.

"Truthfully son, I wait here every time we have a guest. I didn't expect you to actually try to escape. For months now, I've only done this out of habit. You've been so good for so long. I guess another punishment from Daddy has been long overdue," Jerry sounds eerily calm. Almost amused.

I take a step towards the door. Charley follows, out of instinct, I'd guess because his eyes are locked on Jerry and they're turning glassy again.

"Charley don't lose focus. Come on. Just run!" I'm pulling on his arm. He shakes his head a bit, then hesitantly moves closer to the door.

"Charley, if you take _one_ more step towards that door, I swear to God, I will make the rest of your life a living hell." Jerry hasn't moved a muscle, but he's looking significantly less relaxed. Charley's shaking is getting worse. His hand has mine in a death grip. Guilt, shame, fear, and confusion all flicker across his face. Then he frowns. His expression settles on red, hot anger, tears forming in his eyes.

"Fuck. You. Jerry. You already made my life hell. You kidnapped me, you killed everyone I cared about, y-you raped me. Fuck, you fucking raped me!"

Jerry just laughs, "It's not rape if you like it, kiddo. Don't think I didn't hear those little moans, or see how hard you got when you were sitting on my dick. You liked it just as much as I did." He shifts up in the chair, and I stumble backwards, my hand slipping away from Charley's. Jerry's only looking at Charley, so I look around the room, frantically.

Bowl of apples, no, that's not gonna work. TV remote, no. There's the Playstation Charley mentioned. Maybe the beer bottle? Wait, there's a baseball bat, leaning against a bookshelf next to the armchair. Thank God, Mom taught me how to swing. I look back at Charley and he looks absolutely furious.

"You manipulated me and drugged me and raped me. That was rape. I was screaming my lungs out the first time! You told me that you would take care of me. You told me that if I was good, you wouldn't hurt me, but you've kept on hurting me anyways!" He's yelling. And Jerry's focus is still only on him. I edge over towards the bat, watching Jerry carefully. I'm reaching down, slowly...

My hand closes around the handle. Charley begins backing away, and Jerry stands up.

"Charley, I am _done_ having this conversation. Get back over here _now_ , or I'll remind you of _exactly_ how much that first time hurt." He's advancing towards Charley now, backing Charley up towards the door. Past little old me. I twist the handle, grip it.

And swing.

The bat collides with the back of Jerry's head, splintering into pieces. He falls the floor, stunned, then looks up at me, eyes black as coal.

"Charley, run!" I scream. We both start for the door. I've taken two steps, when a hand laces through my hair, dragging me back. And then nothing. No, not nothing, I'm flying. Weightless.

My back collides with a wall and on the way to the ground, my head smashes into the shattered handle of the bat that's still in my grip. I reach up and feel blood on the back of my scalp. When I look up, Jerry is right beside me. He kicks my stomach, forcing the air out of my lungs, and definitely breaking a couple ribs. My vision is coming and going, and through the haze I see Charley, already out the door and crossing the lawn. Jerry moves to follow him, and my arm shoots out, grabbing his ankle. He hits the floor, again.

It's almost like everything's happening in slow-motion. Charley reaches the neighbors' house and begins banging on the door. Jerry pushes himself up.

The lights come on. Jerry's running towards the door.

The kid is ushered into the house, and the neighbors' door shuts again, sealing Jerry out. I breathe a sigh of relief. My moment is violently cut off by a hand on my throat.

"You little cunt, do you have _**any idea what you just cost me?!**_ " Jerry is kneeling over me in a second, and he looks monstrous now. He's gripping my neck so hard that my vision is turning red.

"He's safe. He's safe," I'm mouthing the words because no sound will come out. Jerry loosens his hold and one of his hands comes up to hit me in the cheek.

**"He'll never be safe, I burn down the whole block to get into that house. The whole city! There'll be nowhere on Earth he can run. Charley is _mine_ and he will never stop _being mine_."**

"Yes-," I choke out, clutching the splintered piece of wood in my hand, "-he. _Will_!" I shove the handle straight into Jerry's chest, like some badass _Dracula_ shit. A horrible screeching noise comes out of his mouth, as he launches himself away from me. The handle is wrenched out of my hand, lodged far into Jerry's torso. His body slams into the bookcase, sending the empty beer bottle crashing to the floor. I hear a thud following the crash, and the screeching stops.

I take a breath. Fuck, that hurts. My throat is on fire. My vision is blurring. There's blood everywhere. I've lost a lot of blood tonight. My cheek is sore where Jerry hit me. If I could move, I'd go get Charley's aspirin, but even then, I'm not sure it would do much. Mom would know what to do. God, I miss her. My ribs are barely throbbing now, I can't feel a thing.

I can't feel a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got darker than I thought it would.


	8. 4:49 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks, the moment of truth.

I can't feel a thing.

The pain has almost entirely stopped, replaced by a pulsing feeling in my chest and on the back of my head.

Warm. Cold. Warm. Cold.

It's alternating temperatures, but it's not getting unbearable. There's nothing but blackness. Just suffocating blackness pushing into my eyes. I can barely hear anything, there's a shrill noise, then a bang, like a door behind slammed open or shut. Maybe I'm in a coma. If I try really hard, I can move a finger, or make a sound.

Nothing.

Am I breathing? Sort of. Jerry choked me pretty hard.

Oh shit! Jerry's- wait, I stabbed that fucker. At least Charley got away. He told me he has no one. I hope he'll be able to get help. Maybe someone's coming for me right now. Yeah, Charley said he'd call the cops, and they'd probably bring an ambulance too! I'll go to the hospital and they'll give me fluids, and I'll make it. I can li-

The pulsing spreads to my neck. It's too warm now. It's burning! The pulsing on the back of my scalp has stopped entirely. Little pinpricks of light begin to burst through the darkness. The hotter it gets, the faster they come. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, like a trillion galaxies all nestled away behind my eyelids.

It's massive. I've never felt so insignificant, even when I was working at a shitty bar in a shitty town full of shitty people, all realizing that we're stuck. Except, I'm not stuck anymore, I'm looking at the universe. Even the burning pulse feels so minor compared to this.

One particular point of light glows a warm brown color. It's reminds me of Bex. I wish she could see this. I wish I could share this with you, Bex! You love the stars, I could've shown you them; they were mine all along!

The lights shake. They start swinging back and forth. The pulsing grows stronger again and very cold. I feel the hardwood floor beneath me. No, the stars aren't swinging, my head is. It's being yanked side-to-side. I can feel my fingers again, and I try to wiggle them. Hot air blows next to my earlobe. I involuntarily tense up as much as my muscles allow. Everything else is freezing. The hand in my hair, supporting my head... the floor that I'm laying on, unable to move... the puddle of blood, that's soaked through my clothes. Another strokes my cheek, and the mouth by my ear opens; I can feel its lips brush the shell, and a voice says:

" _You missed, little girl_."

Then his teeth bury into my neck, and the lights tear into my eyes. I look up at the universe, and it looks down at me. Pulsing, waiting.

I'll see you soon, Mom.

I love you, Bex. You'll see this place too one day, and then you'll know how much you mean to me.

Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scream at me if you want, I regret nothing!
> 
> (I might regret many things, but don't tell anyone)


	9. February 22nd, 2013, 3:28 am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily ever after?

Charley Brewster is exhausted. He had been at the hospital for hours. People were giving him funny looks all day. He heard one of the officers who had questioned him talking about a 'Satanic ritual'. As if that was why he had spent so long- they told him, over a year and a half- in a basement. As if that's why that girl, Talia, was dead. Lying on a cheap hospital bed, he rubs his eyes, the tubes sticking out of his left arm wiggling. Apparently, he can't rest without the sleep aides that Jerry had been secretly feeding him. On top of the other crap that Charley thought were daily vitamins, Jerry had even given him Viagra a couple times, to make the kid think he wanted it. Charley's face crumples as he recalls all the times Jerry used him. Nobody would give him a straight answer when he asked the police what they found at the house.

' _That means they haven't found Jerry. He's alive and out there_ ,' the kid thinks, while choking back a sob. A detective with a nice smile had asked him about the bite marks, and he had to tell them that Jerry was into biting him. ' _Technically, that is true. Jerry got off on hurting me, and blood-sucking hurts like a bitch_.'

The TV is showing some old game show and Charley can't concentrate on it. He can't concentrate on anything. For months, all he had were his comics in the basement, but he couldn't even read them during the day because Jerry would turn off the lights after eight in the morning, to make sure the kid slept. Now, there's too much noise, too much light, too much movement, and Charley has to keep his head down to avoid fainting.

The door opens and Charley flinches, then immediately freezes. It's just an overnight nurse, but he can't help but remember all the times Jerry had hit him for flinching at the wrong moment.

' _Don't flinch. Don't flinch. Don't fl-_ '

"Charley, I didn't know you were still awake. I was just coming to check on you, but since you're up, would you mind if I took another two vials of blood? There was a mix-up in the lab. We were going to wait until morning, but if you don't mind?" She's checking the IV bags, and turns to Charley when he doesn't respond right away. His face is pale and his eyes are wide and bloodshot. "...Charley?"

"S-sorry! Yeah, you can take the blood, i-it's fine," he responds, shakily.

The nurse nods and smiles, saying, "Great, I'll be right back with the vials."

After she leaves the room, Charley exhales slowly, trying to keep his heart rate down. His mind flashes back to the times when Jerry would take bags upon bags of his blood, all while whispering to him that he was the "best I've ever tasted". There were times when those words would make him so happy, others when he felt like throwing up. He knows now that that was Jerry's doing, as well. A psychologist had visited him during lunch, and he said that Charley is suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but that the abuse was so frequent that his psyche can't keep up the feelings of adoration and love. The kid doesn't care, he just wants to forget all of this.

The nurse comes back with the tray of equipment, and begins to swab the inside of Charley's elbow. The needle is inserted right above a bandage on his right forearm, covering a particularly nasty bite that Jerry had given him in Arizona, right after he had tried drinking some vegan guy's blood. According to Jerry, vegans have the worst tasting blood.

"Hey, you okay?" the nurse asks with mild concern on her face.

"Yeah. I'm fine. You guys aren't going to mix-up this blood right? Sorry, I don't mean to be rude! I-it's just... I really don't like um... needles," Charley finishes lamely.

"Don't worry about it, and we'll do our best! It's so weird, after the lab ran a couple standard tests, they put the eight vials of your blood aside for like, five minutes, then they were gone!"

Charley's face drains of color. " _What?_ " The word comes out as a whisper.

"Yeah, it was the weirdest thi- oh hey, you don't look so good!" She pulls the needle out and applies the cotton ball and tape, then checks Charley's forehead for a fever.

"Can you... can you go please? I'd like to be alone." He's still whispering, breathing harder. He has to get her out of the room.

"I'm not sure I should go, you look like you're gonna be sick..."

"It's the needles, I told you I don't like them. Just go! Please?" Charley pleads.

The nurse looks skeptical, but concedes, "Okay, okay. I'll be back to check on you in an hour, alright?"

Charley just nods. The door shuts behind her, and he lets out a shaky breath. All of his previous escape attempts come rushing back to him. The first time, when he made it all the way to the front door, Jerry had tied him up and hit him with his belt until his back was bleeding. He said that if Charley tried to run away again, he'd break both of his legs. And he did. The second time, Jerry let Charley come upstairs for a real bath (most of the bathing was done by Jerry) and when he left Charley alone, he tried to climb out the bathroom window. Jerry dragged him back into the house and just snapped both femurs like it was nothing. Eventually, he set them and gave Charley his blood to help him heal, which also happened to be the day Charley sucked Jerry's dick for the first time.

The third escape attempt happened the first time Jerry took him outside. They went out to eat, Jerry made Charley blow him in the bathroom, and then tried to make him walk back to the table with Jerry's cum on his face. Charley freaked out and their screaming match got loud enough that the manager came knocking on the bathroom door. The kid didn't even think, he just opened the door and bolted. Jerry caught him before he even made it outside and knocked him out. When Charley came to, he was staring into the unseeing eyes of the manager's corpse. Jerry had killed everyone in the place and made Charley sleep next to the dead body for two weeks. The fourth time got Charley the belt again. The fifth happened at a motel in Colorado. Charley said he was getting ice, but ran instead. Jerry found him trying to hitchhike East on the i-70. He pulled the kid into the car, drove them back to Nevada, duct-taped Charley's arms and legs together, then threw him into the bathtub filled to the brim with freezing ice water. Charley was screaming apologies after forty-five minutes.

Charley is just recalling the last time, when he had leapt out of Jerry's car, when the door to his room opens again. He looks up, expecting to see the nurse, and comes face-to-face with his captor of nineteen months.

"Hey, guy," Jerry says, leaning against the wall. His face would look calm to outsiders, but Charley knows him. He's fuming.

There's a beat of silence and then Charley launches himself backwards, off the bed, ripping the tubes out of his arm, and falls to the floor. Jerry's there in an instant, pulling the kid up off the floor. Charley's expression flickers between fear and remorse, settling, after a few seconds, on remorse, and his arms slide around Jerry's waist. He buries his face in the vampire's neck chanting, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. Jerry pulls Charley off of him, holding him by his shoulders. The kid won't make eye contact with him, just stares at the floor and continues with his blubbering apologies.

Jerry lifts his chin, forcing Charley to look at him, then raises up his other hand. Charley flinches, but the hand doesn't hit him, just strokes his hair gently. "I thought I told you not to flinch."

"I'm sorry," comes the quiet reply. Charley's vision is blurred with a fresh onslaught of tears.

"Stop apologizing. Did I or did I not tell you to stop flinching?"

"Yes... Daddy," Charley tacks on the word, hoping to make Jerry happy. And he does look very happy at that, the hand under the kid's chin moves around to start rubbing the back of his neck.

"I told you a lot of things, didn't I, kiddo?"

"Um... yes?" Charley's confused now. Jerry's hand moves down to his waist and he pulls Charley flush against him.

"Yes. I did. For example, I told you not to run. I told you to walk back over to me. _**I told you that if you took one step towards that door, you'd regret it**_ ," Jerry grits out, then takes a breath and continues, "You're very selfish, aren't you?"

"S-selfish?" Charley's shaking now, images of his own tortures popping into his head.

"Yes, selfish. You left your little friend to die. I had to drain her of every last drop of blood to heal the gaping hole she left in my chest. Technically, you left me to die too."

"I'm sorry, Jerry, I wasn't thinking! I panicked. She was yelling at me to run, so I just did! I didn't mean to... to leave you!"

"Okay, baby, then how are you going to make it up to me?" Jerry's eyes are cold as he glares at Charley. The kid cranes his neck to offer up his carotid artery. Jerry chuckles, "No, there'll be time for that later. I want you to give me something else."

"Anything, whatever you want!"

"How about that pretty nurse of yours? Lure her outside, and I might- _**might**_ \- forget about the last 24 hours."

Charley hesitates and Jerry clears his throat. "Okay, I'll do it," the kid says.

"Good boy," Jerry murmurs, and places a kiss on his forehead.

"And you won't hurt me, right?"

"Not outside of your punishment, no. We can be done with that. I'll only make you feel good from now on."

"What's my punishment?" The kid is nuzzled into Jerry's chest.

"I'm turning you."

Charley's stomach drops and he pulls away, stumbles back, hitting his thigh on the bedside table. His blood runs cold. Fighting off tears, he begins begging, "No, Jerry, you said you'd wait until I was older. Please, I don't want this. I don't want to be a vamp-"

"I think we've established that I don't care what you want, Charley. If I want to turn you now, I will. And the thing about waiting until you were older was a lie anyways. I never wanted you to stop being a teenager, and you're already nineteen."

"... Jerry, anything else, please, pick literally anything else!"

"No, and it's _final_."

Charley stands still, blood pounding in his ears. He remembers the way Ed looked after Jerry turned him. Like there was nothing there. Jerry had told him once that he would've turned all of Charley's friends and family if Charley hadn't caught his attention first. The kid remembers killing his best friend, remembers the despair he had felt, and how he felt like it couldn't get any worse than that. Except it had. It got worse everyday after that. Because of Jerry.

Anger washes over his features, and he looks up and yells, "I'm not going to be a _fucking_ vampire!"

The kid throws himself at Jerry fists flying out towards his face. Jerry holds up his arms to ward off most of the blows, looking mildly amused, but mostly irritated. "Stop being ridiculous. You know you can't hurt m- **Oof!** " Charley's knee connects with the man's groin, and he doubles over. Even vampires have weaknesses. Charley attempts to run around Jerry, but he grabs the kid around the waist and throws him onto the bed. The kid scrambles back to try to get away, and Jerry latches onto an ankle and drags him back to the edge of the bed.

A hand comes down and hits Charley in the stomach. While, the kid's holding his middle, grunting in pain, Jerry climbs onto the bed with him, settling on top of him. Charley is pulled up by his neck, until he's fully laying down, then Jerry pushes up the hospital gown. Charley's body goes slack. Flashbacks of other times when Jerry was on top of him come tearing into his mind.

' _I think I have PTSD_ ,' a detached voice says in his head. Jerry has pulled down the underwear that the hospital gave him, and taken out his own cock. Charley's face is blank, tears coming out of his eyes, but he gives no other reactions. Jerry reaches over to the bedside table and puts some lotion on his hand. He begins stroking himself, slicking himself up.

"Now normally, I'd get you ready," he's saying to Charley, "But you've been bad. You must really want me to hurt you, huh?"

Charley's shaking his head, "I'm sorry, please, I'll be good, I swear!"

"You're very talented when it comes to backtracking, aren't you?" Charley's about to respond, when Jerry shoves his legs up to his chest, lines himself up, and starts pushing in. He groans and the kid's mouth opens with a silent scream. It's burning more, the deeper it gets, and Jerry leans down to whisper into Charley's ear, "Fuck, you're just as tight as the first time. Such a tight fucking slut."

Charley's sobbing is getting louder, so Jerry claps his hand over his mouth. He bottoms out and holds it there for a few seconds. When he shifts, a whine comes out from behind Jerry's hand.

"Now, I'm gonna take my hand off your mouth and you're gonna be a good boy and _beg_ ," Jerry is saying, "Remember, the more you beg, the less it hurts." Charley looks up with watery eyes and nods as much as he can. The hand is removed and a few seconds pass. Then:

"...Please," comes the kid's small voice.

"Please what, son?"

"Please fuck me, Daddy."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Jerry says, smug, before abruptly pulling back almost all the way, then thrusting back in just as quickly. He immediately sets on a semi-violent pace that has Charley biting his lower lip hard to avoid screaming. Jerry's arms release Charley's legs and the kid brings them down to wrap around the man's waist. The new angle has Charley moaning, and he can feel himself getting hard. Jerry groans and thrusts particularly hard, and Charley's teeth pierce his lip.

"Open your mouth, baby," Jerry says and he's practically moaning too. Charley opens and Jerry licks into it, paying particular attention to the bleeding lower lip. As the blood slows, he starts kissing down Charley's jaw, to his neck. He licks once, twice along the artery, then sucks lightly.

"A-are you giving me a hickey?"

"Shut up. I'm marking you."

Charley laughs mirthlessly, "That's a hickey." Jerry's teeth sink into his neck, and the kid stops laughing. Blood flows into his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head. He begins slamming into Charley _hard_. Charley's moans are getting louder and louder, when the kid suddenly cums. His hole tightens around Jerry's cock and the man follows suit, emptying himself inside of Charley.

Everything stills, and they're both breathing hard. Charley reaches up to try and push Jerry off of him, but thinks better of it. After a couple of minutes, Jerry pulls out of the kid, and the kid lets out a whine, but otherwise, doesn't move. He sits up and looks down at Charley, who's just watching him. His hand moves to caress Charley's hair, and the kid ( _finally_ ) doesn't flinch. The man observes what he's done to him. The pinkish saliva glistening on Charley's chin under the cut lip, the hickey on his neck, the bite mark around the hickey, his cum leaking out of Charley's hole, dribbling down his ass onto the sheets. This boy is _his_ and every inch of his body reinforces that. Something shifts in Jerry's gaze, and Charley must see it because he's reaching for Jerry. He wants Jerry to hold him. And he will hold him eventually, but first:

"Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By home, Jerry means somewhere completely new, because their old home is a crime scene.
> 
> Also, my bad. No happy ending. Sorry lol


End file.
